Insomnia
by Shadowgirl1
Summary: Certain members of Weiss have trouble sleeping…YohjixKen :shounen ai:


Disclaimer:  The members of Weiss Kreuz belong to Koyasu and Project Weiss, they're not mine.  Sigh  This fic is YohjixKen with some slight shounen ai.

            If I close my eyes for a minute… 

            The scent of perfume drifted Yohji's attention back to his work.  A bouquet of flowers was pushed to the side as he sauntered over to the female figure.  He was about to throw an arm around her…when he realized she was too young for him.  His arm froze in midair and his hand flew behind his head as the girl turned around.  He pretended to smooth his hair and smiled pleasantly-before he grabbed Omi and ushered him to her.

            Omi blushed as he nearly dropped his watering can.  He smiled to the girl.  "Konichi wa!  May I help you?"

            Yohji went back to the table and leaned against it, not bothering to suppress a yawn.  He could feel Aya glaring katanas at him, but he grinned to the red haired florist regardless.

            This elicited a snort and a cold look from Aya.  "Typical," he mumbled.

            Ken struggled not to look tired from across the room.  _Typical Yohji indeed._  Running a hand through his hair, _all he wants is attention, but something is different as of late.  He's acting more like me…_

            Later that evening, after their most recent mission, Yohji sat in a chair at the kitchen table.  It was 4am and he was still awake.  Smoke drifted lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.  The cigarette had yet to be smoked and its paper was swiftly turning to ash, dropping onto the table.  Aya would have a fit if he saw that, he was one of those perfectionist clean freaks.  Shaking that thought from his head he watched the smoke, hoping it would lull him to sleep.  He wished Ken were around so he could regale him with children's stories, maybe that would get him to sleep.

            Ken walked down the steps to the kitchen.  He could never sleep after missions and since they had one nearly every day this week, he had gotten little to no sleep.  He had established a routine at this point: walk down the stairs, grab the milk, warm the milk, drink the milk, and attempt to sleep.  In his automatic, almost zombie-like state he made his way to the refrigerator. 

            Ken went to pull open the fridge and paused, he smelled cigarette smoke. He sniffed, "Yohji?"

            The cigarette was snuffed in a nearby ashtray.  "Ken?"

            Ken's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw Yohji's form at the table.  "What are you doing up this late?"

            "I might ask you the same question," Yohji responded regarding him with his trademark smirk.

            "I'm always up at this hour," Ken replied.  "I've never seen you awake.  You always sleep in until noon."

            "Maybe this is the reason," Yohji said with a shrug.  "I usually lie in my bed or stare out the window.  This night I felt like a cigarette."

            Ken noted that he didn't smoke the cigarette.  "I see."  He paused, "I was about to make some warm milk, it helps me sleep.  Would you like some?"

            "Sure, whatever helps would be nice.  I've tried just about everything," Yohji said with a sigh.

            "Oh?"  Ken went to the fridge and grabbed the milk.  He turned to look at Yohji, who was watching him.   His eyes reflected the light of the fridge and then plunged back to darkness when he closed its door.

            "Yes, I've tried relaxing music, reading, counting sheep, meditation, and a host of other things," Yohji said with a dramatic air.

            "You counted sheep?"

            "Yes, what of it?"

            "Never mind, go on," Ken said as he waited for the milk to warm over the stove.

            Yohji waved a dismissive hand.  "No, I've ranted enough."  He then mumbled, "and to think I thought those magazines would put me to sleep, but they only got me excited."

            Overhearing the mumble Ken asked, "magazines?"

            "Nothing," Yohji said quickly.

            "Sure Yohji, whatever you say."  Ken grabbed some mugs and poured the warm milk in them.  Handing a mug to Yohji,   "You should really go sit someplace where you can fall asleep easier."

            "Why don't we head back to my room then?"

            "Nani?"  Ken nearly dropped his mug.

            Yohji brushed aside Ken's shocked tone.  "This milk will take a while to cool and maybe conversation will make us both sleepy."

            "Oh. . .right," Ken said.

            He followed Yohji to his room and took a moment to look around.  There was a lack of chairs; in fact the bed seemed to be the most decorated object in the room.  _No surprise there,_ Ken thought to himself.  There was a desk littered with papers, a full-length mirror, and clothes strewn about in typical Yohji fashion.  His attention was drawn back to Yohji, who was setting up some plush pillows for them to sit against on his bed.

            Sipping his milk Yohji asked, "so, what keeps you up?"

            "Thinking about the missions," Ken replied after a long pause.  "I can't help it.  Images replay in my head and I don't want to turn to my dreams."

            "Ever the sensitive one," Yohji said shifting closer to him.

            Ken seemed deep in thought for a moment, then turned to Yohji.  "What about you?  You always seem suave and in control, as if the world is your pearl and you're the oyster embracing it."

            "My oyster is always open," Yohji said with slight amusement in his voice, "but of course my world is no white, virgin pearl.  It is black, akin to the beasts we deny their tomorrow."

            Ken finished his milk, placing it aside, and absently rested his head against Yohji.  "You do a good job of hiding it."

            Setting his mug aside, "as do you."  He draped an arm around Ken, yawning slightly.

            Yohji's yawn was contagious and Ken couldn't help himself as he yawned.  He nestled closer to the older youth's chest, breathing in his cigarette and cologne filled scent.  His warmth was inviting and he could feel sleep beckoning to him.

            Looking down to Ken, Yohji couldn't help but smile slightly.  He found himself lightly stroking Ken's hair and brushed his lips against its soft top.  He thought to himself, _maybe insomnia isn't such a bad thing after all._  Resting his chin atop Ken's head he found himself slowly drifting to sleep with Ken in his arms.

            The next morning Aya walked throughout the house waking Weiss members.  He checked in on Omi, who was singing to himself as he got ready for work and went in search of the others.  He was surprised that Ken was not awake and ready; he usually awoke at the same time as Aya.  His eyes narrowed in suspicion when he noted that Ken was not in his room and that his bed was not made, he always made his bed.

            He went to Yohji's room, not bothering to knock, to ask if he saw Ken.  He wasn't expecting Yohji to be awake when he entered. . .but nor was he expecting the image that awaited him.  Ken lay in Yohji's arms as if he was large cat snuggled against its owner.  Yohji embraced him as if he were an oversized teddy bear.  Aya was taken aback by the sight and blinked slowly; he closed the door so as not to wake them and shook his head a little.

            Omi walked over to him.  "Ohayoo Aya-kun!  Do you want me to wake Yohji?"  He went to open the door.

            "No!"  Aya grabbed Omi's wrist before he could open the door.  Omi looked to him curiously and Aya released him.  "I mean. . .no, let him sleep in.  He'll make an appearance later in the day.  Go and open the shop, I'll be down in a bit."

            With an overly naive grin, "okay Aya-kun." 

            Aya breathed a sigh of relief, but then his gaze fell back to the door.  He muttered, "insomniacs," and then went to go open the store.

Author's Note:  Well, that was my first Yoken fic everyone.  Hope you all enjoyed.  Please review! Story inspired by this quote, "Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking."(John Ciardi), the song 'Insomnia' by TheCruxShadows, my friend and I acting far too much like the characters, and of course my own slight insomnia.


End file.
